


History Questions

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Embarrassment, Friendship, Gen, History, Humor, Tests, failure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Duke Gareth tests how much the pages know about the Bazhir Wars.





	History Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [westernsunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernsunset/gifts).



> Inspired by Sir Myles commenting in the first Alanna book that last time Duke Gareth visited the class he found their knowledge of the Bazhir Wars insufficient. 
> 
> Written for westernsunset as part of the Wishing Tree event at Goldenlake.

History Questions

“We should devote what’s left of our studying time to reviewing the Bazhir Wars,” announced Gary as Jon’s circle of friends bent over their books at a table in the flickering candlelight of the library. As the best at book-learning among their group, he often determined their study schedule with the air of a general devising strategy for the battlefield.

“Why?” Jon flicked fretfully through his history notes, wishing they didn’t all look like unfamiliar territory to him. “Is Sir Myles giving us a test tomorrow?”

“No.” Gary shook his head, face grim with warning. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. Father is.”

“How do you know that?” Jon glanced miserably up from his notes, already feeling resigned to utter failure.

“I went to visit Father earlier this evening, and I happened to overhear him advising Sir Myles that he will be stopping by tomorrow’s history lesson to assess our knowledge of the Bazhir Wars.” Gary pronounced the last seven words in an uncanny imitation of his father’s dry, nasal tone.

“By happened to overhear, you mean you eavesdropped.” Raoul grinned as he always did at any allusion to mischief. “I don’t think you’d visit your father at all if not to eavesdrop on him.”

“I visit my father to acquire valuable information. According to the Mithran priests seeking wisdom from your father is one of the greatest forms of filial piety.” Gary’s expression was so innocent Jon half-expected him to whistle like a spring bird. “With my newfound wisdom, I believe it would be best if we reviewed the Bazhir Wars so as to avoid embarrassing Sir Myles with a deficient understanding of them.”

Jon was about to groan that he was a hopeless case when it came to understanding any history, but he was cut off before he could begin by a snort from Alex.

“You may believe that’s best, Gary, but not everybody does.” Alex spoke only after his snort had secured the group’s attention. “I hope that Sir Myles is so embarrassed by our deficient understanding of the Bazhir Wars that your father relieves him of his duties. Then maybe we can have a history teacher who doesn’t waste entire lessons debating the Code of Chivalry.”

“You’re the only one he wastes entire lessons debating the Code of Chivalry with,” Raoul pointed out.

“Then you get assigned punishment work that makes you hate Sir Myles,” added Francis, who rarely offered an opinion, and when he did, it was always in support of Raoul whom he shadowed everywhere.

“You’re a spiteful little snot.” Gary was the most adept in the pages’ wing at making an insult sound good-natured.

“You’ve no idea how much.” Alex gathered his books and strode toward the door with the hint of a smirk on his face. “I’m going to bed so I can be well-rested when your father impales me at daybreak.”

Jon rolled his eyes at the reference to the extra dawn fencing lessons Alex complained as much as he bragged about–usually within the same breath.

As Alex disappeared doubtlessly to dream of duels and mathematical equations, Gary grabbed Jon’s notes, saying, “Let’s test everyone’s knowledge of the Battle of Bloody Sand. Then we can move onto the Battle of Bright Sun.”

“There are too many battles.” Jon pinched his forehead, frustrated before the test had even started. “I’ll never be able to remember the differences between them.”

“You won’t if you don’t try.” Gary waggled a finger in mock-severity, and then began to probe the group’s familiarity with the Battle of Bloody Sand.

Perhaps Jon had tried too hard to memorize the details of battles that all sounded the same and that was why his mind went blank as a washed slate when Duke Gareth asked him who had commanded the Tortallan forces during the Battle of Bright Sun during the next day’s history class. Either that or his mind was still asleep because it was too early in the morning for any sort of thinking.

“King Jasson the Conqueror, Your Grace.” Jon took a stab at the correct answer when Duke Gareth’s narrowing eyes warned him that he had been standing silently behind his desk too long. All the old battles had been won by King Jasson, after all. A sharp kick to his ankles from Gary, who shared his desk, nearly made him gasp. Resisting the urge to break his proper posture to rub at it, he recalled that King Jasson had only been a prince when he conquered the Bazhir. Trying to act as if he had known this fact and not remembered it an instant ago, he added, “Although he was only a prince at the time he won that battle.”

“No, he wasn’t, because he never fought in the Battle of Bright Sun.” Duke Gareth’s eyebrows rose. “Would you care to try another answer?”

Jon wished he could say that the last thing he wished to do was try another wrong answer that would only bring him more disgrace when titters concealed as coughs were filling the classroom but that would land him in trouble for impertinence. Gary was mouthing some name to him, but Jon had always found lip-reading a foreign language he was terrible at translating into Common, and Gary should have realized that after all their years of companionship....

“Don’t mouth the answer, Gary.” Duke Gareth had apparently seen Gary’s attempt to mouth the right response to Jon because he glared sternly at his son. “I’m well-aware you know it. I’m asking Jon if he knows it.”

“Yes, sir.” Gary’s cheeks burned as if his father’s words had scorched him, and Jon understood that he was all alone.

“I don’t know, Your Grace.” Jon could see no recourse but to admit his shameful ignorance and pray his humiliation would pass soon.

“Then sit down,” Duke Gareth ordered, and Jon was only too happy to comply as his uncle’s keen gaze swept the room, seeking a next victim. “Perhaps Alex will prove more knowledgeable about the Battle of Bright Sun. Is it true that the Tortallans were victorious at the Battle of Bright Sun, Alex?”

“Yes, sir.” Alex stood. “I seem to remember it was a glorious triumph for the Tortallans.”

“Very interesting you should have that memory when it was an ignominious defeat for Tortall.” Duke Gareth’s lips thinned as Jon longed to bury his head in his hands. Tortall hadn’t even won the Battle of Bright Sun, and he had been babbling about King Jasson winning it as a prince. What a fool he was. “The Tortallan forces were commanded by a drunkard general who had them march out of Persopolis into sunlight so bright they couldn’t see the Bazhir who shot them full of arrows. It was the disgrace of this defeat that made Prince Jasson march south to lead the war against the Bazhir. Is any of this ringing a bell, boy?”

“No, Your Grace.” Alex shook his head. “I don’t believe the class has covered the Battle of Bright Sun yet.”

“Perhaps the class has but you weren’t paying attention.” Duke Gareth waved an irritable hand. “Sit down, Alex.”

Duke Gareth continued to quiz the class on the Bazhir Wars. Other boys might have joined him and Alex in answering incorrectly but Jon was too focused on contemplating his humiliation to notice.

“Why did Uncle have to test my knowledge of an obscure battle anyway?” Jon grumbled to Gary as they left the classroom when the bell finally took pity on Jon and rang. Gary, he thought glumly, was probably the only person who would acknowledge him in his disgrace, but that was only because Gary was family.

This proved to be quite the wrong gripe because Gary interpreted it as an invitation to ramble on about everything he had ever read about the Battle of Bright Sun. “Well, you see, the Battle of Bright Sun wasn’t an obscure battle. As Father said, it was such a terrible defeat that it caused Jasson to take leadership of the war against the Bazhir, and that, in turn, meant...”

“I didn’t ask for the whole history of the Battle of Bright Sun or the Bazhir Wars,” interrupted Jon more snappishly than he had intended.

Gary appeared ready to retort but was denied the opportunity by the beginning of their next lesson.

At lunch, Jon was still furious with himself for not mustering a more impressive performance on behalf of Sir Myles after his hard studying. If Jon was blaming himself, Raoul placed the fault with Alex.

“You sly serpent.” Raoul’s fork jabbed accusingly at Alex in a gesture Master Oakbridge would have berated as uncouth if he was present in all his prissiness. “You knew that the Battle of Bright Sun ended in defeat for the Tortallans. Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone except me.” Morosely, Jon toyed with the plateful of food he had no desire to eat and was grateful that his mother wasn’t here to admonish him for his lack of table manners.

“Of course I knew.” Alex’s face was a smoothly inscrutable mask. “I couldn’t leave Jon alone in his ignorance, however. It would be most unchivalrous for me to fail to feign ignorance under the circumstances.”

Jon had the sneaking suspicion that Alex had been more motivated by backstabbing Sir Myles than by any loyalty to Jon. Before Jon could voice this, Gary, who seemed to take umbrage at Alex’s remark, said tartly, “I couldn’t feign ignorance about the Battle of Bright Sun. Father knows that I memorized the facts of it when I was seven.”

“You memorized the facts of the Battle of Bright Sun when you were seven.” Jon wondered how every word his friends said somehow made him feel worse. “I can’t even memorize those facts when its my own family history.”

“The Battle of Bright Sun isn’t your family history,” Gary reminded him, and Jon couldn’t figure out if the comment was meant to be helpful or condescending. “As Father said, it wasn’t led by Jasson the Conqueror.”

“You can’t expect me to remember anything about history.” Peevishly, Jon poked at his lunch, feeling as dead inside as the meat on his platter.

“Eat.” Gary dumped a heaping serving of vegetables Jon would never have done more than shift around his dish even when he was in the cheeriest of moods onto Jon’s still full plate. “If you don’t, you’ll be pounded to a paste on the practice courts.”

As his cousin gave him a hearty clap on the back, Jon thought that only Gary could make a pounding on the practice courts sound like a merry occurrence. Rolling his eyes, he began to eat even though he didn’t want to and the food stuck in his dry mouth like the desert sand his ancestor had conquered but not at the Battle of Bright Sun.


End file.
